


lost in stereo

by sohappyiwhistle (theyneverhaveanextractionplan)



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Music, Rating May Change, Romance, Singing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-09-26 11:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9894746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theyneverhaveanextractionplan/pseuds/sohappyiwhistle
Summary: Five times Eames sang into the mirror, and one time Arthur sang instead.





	1. Come & Get It - Selena Gomez

**Author's Note:**

> This is just something silly that came to me while listening to my iTunes on shuffle. It was very fun to write, and I hope it is fun to read. I do not own the music referenced in this story, nor do I own the characters.
> 
> This fic was written quickly, and it was unbeta'd. Any and all mistakes are mine.

If you had asked Arthur what he thought life post-Inception would be like, this is not what he would have thought. Arthur probably would have pictured something along the lines of: living in his favorite Manhattan apartment, with enough money to only take jobs that interested him, and summering with Cobb & Co. at his home in France. One of those things is true, he does have enough money to only take jobs that he feels are exciting and challenging. Honestly, Arthur has enough money to retire and move to the moon.

But, alas, here Arthur is, in a large London loft that is not his own attempting to make breakfast for himself and Eames, and finding himself unable to focus. His lack of focus has nothing to do with the fact that last night Eames did something to him in bed that had him making noises he didn’t know he was capable of making, and everything to do with the fact that there is irritating, pseudo-fusion pop music emanating from the bathroom. A situation that Arthur does not find it charming, even if Eames’ voice can carry the tune much better than Selena’s. Arthur grimaces at his knowledge of pop music, and curses Cobb for the ludicrous amount of times he’s asked him to babysit Philippa and James. 

Arthur shakes his head and attempts to finish up breakfast. But after a particularly loud, “HEY!” Arthur is over it. He will always come and get it when he’s ready, and he does not need Eames to remind him to do so thank you very much. Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, Arthur reminds himself that he is a professional and that he can do anything he sets his brilliant mind to. He turns back to the breakfast ingredients before him. A verse later and Arthur is ready to go and get it.

Arthur hastily slams the spatula he was holding onto the counter and marches to the bathroom. He swings the door open and is about to unleash his irritation onto his partner when he stops in his tracks, frozen at the sight before him. Eames, lost in the bridge of the song, with his eyes shut, is gyrating wildly in front of the fogged up bathroom mirror. He is singing into his comb. His towel is riding obscenely low on his hips, and Arthur’s mouth goes dry. However, despite Arthur’s lack of sound, when Eames sees him in the mirror he shrieks and jumps half a foot in the air. Spinning around with a hand to his heart, his towel and comb falling to the floor. His eyes are wide, his cheeks flushed, and he’s the most beautiful sight Arthur’s ever witnessed.

“Darling,” Eames pants. “You startled me.”

Eames may be unabashed by his nudity, but Arthur can’t stop staring at him in all his glory. Apparently this is obvious, as when Arthur finally makes eye contact with Eames the man’s eyebrows are raised and he is looking at Arthur with one of the smuggest grins in the history of the world.

“Can we help you, love?” Eames asks, teasing.

“I, um, I was just, uh, breakfast, uh…” Arthur stammers. Eames moves around Arthur to step out of the bathroom and pad off towards the bedroom. 

“When you’re ready, come and get it, darling,” he says coyly over his shoulder. Leaving Arthur red faced and extremely aroused in the bathroom.

“I’ll come and get it,” Arthur mutters. And go and get it he does, na na na na, na na na na.


	2. What Makes You Beautiful - One Direction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just something silly that came to me while listening to my iTunes on shuffle. It was very fun to write, and I hope it is fun to read. I do not own the music referenced in this story, nor do I own the characters.
> 
> This fic was written quickly, and it was unbeta'd. Any and all mistakes are mine.

In the high stakes world of illegal dreamshare, jobs always have the capacity to go south. Nevertheless, Arthur takes pride in the fact that almost 98% of the jobs he is on run smoothly — the other 2%, not so much. Some end in gunshots and explosions, other simply get extended and extended until the team just gives up. This job is shaping up to be like the latter.

They’ve — they being the team, Arthur, Eames, Cobb, etc. — been in Berlin for close to three months now. A seemingly run-of-the-mill extraction that was meant to last three weeks, has more than tripled in length, and the extension has been taking its toll. Especially on a certain forger who had planned on popping home to London after the job to see his mother for her birthday. His disappointment and the fact that he hasn’t been home in close to a year have made him dull and mopey. Arthur has caught him sighing into his tea mournfully too many times to count.

One night, around midnight, when Arthur enters their hotel room, exhausted, he is met with a disturbing sound coming from the bathroom. Eames, who had gotten back before Arthur, is in the bathroom singing at the top of his lungs… to One Direction. It isn’t the first time this week that this has happened. Arthur can barely contain his scowl, forcefully reminding himself of Eames’ situation regarding their England trip. He stays silent in the front room until the second chorus, because he is trying to be compassionate, he really is, because Eames is homesick. And when Arthur is homesick he definitely blasts American music — quality American music, that is — that Eames tolerates, but of all the phenomenal British artists to listen to Eames picks One Direction? Really? Hell, maybe Eames and Philippa would be better off dating… Arthur shakes his head and steps into the hallway, dialing Cobb’s number.

“Arthur?” Cobb mumbles through his sleep.

“Yeah, hey. Sorry for waking you up, but I need a favor.” 

“Anything,” Cobb says without hesitation, he owes Arthur that.

“Eames and I need this weekend off, from Friday to Monday.”

“Um… ok.” Arthur is a little shocked that that’s all it took to get his way, but he chooses not to question it.

“Great. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Arthur’s already bought the tickets on his phone by the time the song’s last chorus comes around. He leans against the door of the bathroom and watches Eames dance around in his Union Jack boxers to the atrocious music. If he smiles, it is because he is exhausted and for no other reason. Eames catches Arthur’s eyes in the mirror and shouts the final “that’s what makes you beautiful” right at him, grinning when Arthur blushes. 

“So, Eames,” Arthur begins holding up his phone. “I’ve got a bit of a surprise for you.”

“Ah, darling, I do love surprises! Show me!” Eames responds as he exits the bathroom and flops on the fluffy, king-sized bed. Arthur straddles Eames on the bed and hands him his phone, on it is an itinerary for a weekend trip back to England to see Eames’ mother. “Arthur…” Eames stares at the phone for a moment, speechless. 

“It’s only because I couldn’t handle your ridiculous One Direction obsession,” Arthur mumbles, blushing from his ears to his neck. Eames looks as though he knows Arthur is lying, but he says nothing. All he does is place Arthur’s phone on the nightstand, and bring his hands to cradle Arthur’s face. He kisses him gently, before spooning Arthur.

“Thank you, darling.”

“It was nothing.”

“No, it was everything. And, in return, I am going to tell you a secret,” Eames says as Arthur shifts in his arms to face him.

“What?”

“The reason that you’re so beautiful is because you don’t know you’re beautiful, darling. That what makes you beautiful.”

Arthur smacks a pillow right into Eames’ smug face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any musical opinions expressed in the fic are Arthur's and Eames', not my own.


	3. Baba O'Riley - The Who

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just something silly that came to me while listening to my iTunes on shuffle. It was very fun to write, and I hope it is fun to read. I do not own the music referenced in this story, nor do I own the characters.
> 
> This fic was written quickly, and it was unbeta'd. Any and all mistakes are mine.

Eames’ family home manages to be cozy, despite the vastness of the estate. His mother is a kind and elegant woman who loves her son fiercely, and has welcomed Arthur into the family without more than a second glance. Excluding Eames’ rocky relationship with his father — who leaves them be for the most part of their short trip — their little vacation is fantastic, and everything they needed.

On their second-to-last night Arthur and Eames fall into bed, feeling warm and giddy from the copious amount of wine they’ve consumed, and the sheer amount of joy in the atmosphere. After a round of messy and exuberant sex, Arthur finds himself in a euphoric, half asleep state. Smiling as Eames wraps himself around Arthur and mumbles sweet nothings into his neck as they both drift off into a dreamless slumber.

Arthur is woken by the sound of Eames’ iPod, on shuffle, landing on Baba O’Riley. The mix of national pride, happiness to be home, and overall contentment is what causes Eames, completely forgetting about his sleeping partner, to turn the music up loud and start to sing. It is the mix of the toe-curling orgasm Arthur had the night before, his appreciation of quality music, and his love for Eames that makes the situation more than bearable for Arthur.

Finally, some good British music, he thinks, sighing as he shifts in the bed so he can watch Eames lose himself and scream into his comb. Arthur nods along as Eames screams “teenage wasteland, teenage wasteland, they’re all wasted,” not bothering to bite down on his smile as Eames flops his wet hair around in time with each guitar sound. The droplets from his hair catch remarkable air, landing on the ceiling above him, all over the mirror, and a few even hitting Arthur from his position across the room in bed. Arthur can’t seem to mind though, simply reveling in the pure happiness his lover is exuding. If Arthur’s heart skips a beat, well then, that’s probably just a side effect of his massive hangover or something.

The moment is ruined when Eames’ mother pounds on the door, shouting, “Oi! Do you have any idea how early it is? Shut up, William!” Eames smiles sheepishly at the mention of his first name as he turns the music down.

“Sorry, mum,” he says with a fond smile that widens when he catches Arthur’s eyes in the mirror, winking. “Good morning, love. I hope I didn’t wake you.” Arthur smiles as he stretches like a cat. Then he pats the empty space in the bed, wordlessly beckoning Eames back to him. Once he’s effectively wrapped himself around Eames’ like a koala he says,

“I had no idea you actually had good taste in music,” giggling when Eames smack his ass in retaliation.

“I’ll have you know, that my taste in music is as delightful as my taste in clothing,” laughing when Arthur fake gags. “Darling, you wound me.”

“I couldn’t wound you if I tried, Mr. Eames,” Arthur says into Eames’ neck, kissing it tenderly to punctuate the point that he wouldn’t ever try. If Eames’ soft smile and the kiss that follows are any indication, Eames understands.

The trip does wonders for both their moods, and when they both get back to Berlin to finish the job Arthur is surprised to find himself constantly humming Baba O’Riley. Eames, on the other hand, doesn’t seem shocked at all, just pleased, sneaking Arthur away from work for kisses whenever he catches the younger man unconsciously humming. The job ends successfully and Cobb’s irritation at how, in his words, "lovey-dovey" Arthur and Eames are only improves their sex life — as it turns out, the only person that Eames likes irritating more than Arthur is Dom… 

Go figure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any musical opinions expressed in the fic are Arthur's and Eames', not my own.


	4. C.R.E.A.M. - Wu-Tang Clan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just something silly that came to me while listening to my iTunes on shuffle. It was very fun to write, and I hope it is fun to read. I do not own the music referenced in this story, nor do I own the characters.
> 
> This fic was written quickly, and it was unbeta'd. Any and all mistakes are mine.

The best part of taking a break from work is being able to spend time at home. For Arthur, home is either in New York, Paris, or London — really anywhere where Eames is — but there’s an extra amount of relaxation that comes with being on his own home turf. New York City is gorgeous, as always, and after a long stretch of nonstop work Arthur is looking forward to winding down. He’ll get coffee at his favorite joint, sandwiches from his local deli, shop his heart out, and have an obscene amount of sex with Eames. All in all it will be fabulous and just thinking about the next few weeks puts a smile on his face.  
Arthur enters his Manhattan apartment as he is getting off the phone with his mother. After assuring her that, yes, he and Eames would be visiting for Thanksgiving next week, he hangs up. The entire apartment seems to be vibrating, and Arthur, frowning, begins to investigate. The deep bass seems to be coming from the master bathroom, and Arthur feels a dreading sense of déjà vu. He makes his way to the bathroom, shucking off his jacket and shoes on his way there. He does not like what he sees.  
Eames is the best at what he does, he’s an amazing artist, chef, and singer. Hell, he’s dynamite in the sack and Arthur gets butterflies when he sees the man, but nothing in the entirety of the cosmos can excuse this heresy. Eames is an absolutely atrocious rapper, and as a proud New Yorker, Arthur cannot just standby and listen as Eames destroys this rap anthem. Arthur cringes as Eames, in his regularly attractive British accent, attempts to say “dolla dolla bill yo.” Jesus, I never should have introduced him to Wu-Tang, Arthur thinks as he racks his brain for the best way to stop Eames without being a total ass. Arthur decides to go with the most surefire way to shut the man up: sex. It will work, they will both benefit, and Arthur will save New York from Eames’ horrific version of C.R.E.A.M.  
Biting down on the smile that is making its way to his eyes as he watches Eames bop around to the song’s catchy beat, Arthur sneaks into the bathroom. He presses pause on the speakers, and when Eames turns around he jumps him, dragging him to the bed and effectively begins shutting him up.

“Darling, if I had known that my rapping would get you in this state I would’ve — ” Eames begins, before Arthur takes his entire cock into his mouth and renders him speechless.

Hours later when they are both panting and sweaty and making their way to the shower, Eames turns Wu-Tang Clan back on and leaves Arthur in tears of mirth as he shows off his “gangsta” dance moves. And if Arthur whispers I love you through his giggles, and Eames’ eyes soften and their laughter becomes something else, well…

Then maybe Arthur’s plan has worked.


	5. Moonlight in Vermont - Frank Sinatra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A ridiculously late update in honor of Inceptiversary!
> 
> Eames doesn't sing into a mirror in this one, but he does sing.
> 
> Thanks for sticking by me, I love you all. <3
> 
> \--
> 
> This is just something silly that came to me while listening to my iTunes on shuffle. It was very fun to write, and I hope it is fun to read. I do not own the music referenced in this story, nor do I own the characters.
> 
> This fic was written quickly, and it was unbeta'd. Any and all mistakes are mine.

It’s a week before Christmas and Vermont is beautiful. The white snow, and green green trees accompanied by the seemingly endless amount of twinkling stars in the night sky are the epitome of romance. The files strewn about, guns everywhere, and heinous dark circles Arthur is sporting, not so much. Rubbing his eyes, Arthur reminds himself to be professional, and to ignore the physical pull he feels from the fluffy bed in the next room of the cabin. 

An hour later, overworked and no longer comprehending the words he’s reading, Arthur enters the bedroom hoping to pass out. He is more startled than he cares to admit, when Eames taps him on his shoulder from behind.

“Come for a walk with me, love,” he says, with a strange twinkle in his eye. 

“Are you shitting me, Eames? I have literally been awake for upwards of thirty-six hours,” Arthur replies, too exhausted to even deign Eames with a glare. Eames doesn’t even respond, just smiles like he knows he’s going to get his way and hands Arthur his parka. And he’s right, because despite Arthur’s whining and sighing and glaring, he does leave the warmth of their shared cabin and join Eames for a walk.

It’s freezing outside, but the air is crisp and refreshing, and Arthur loves that the only sounds for miles is the crunching of their boots on the snow beneath them. Arthur doesn’t even notice Eames has stopped walking until he feels the other man tug on his arm. Before he can even question what is going on, Eames beams and clears his throat. 

It’s Sinatra, Arthur realizes belatedly. Something about Vermont, romance, and moonlight. Arthur can’t even begin to recall what song this is, or why it’s important, because all that matters in this moment is that Eames has begun to slow dance with Arthur under the stars. It’s romantic, and a little ridiculous, and one hundred percent Eames. That last thought fills Arthur with a rush of love for the man twirling him around, and he stops their dancing to kiss him. To Arthur’s surprise Eames is no longer in front of him to kiss. He’s… he’s kneeling. 

He’s kneeling in front of Arthur with that twinkle in his eye, and he hasn't stopped singing, but Arthur’s heart has stopped beating. On the final “moonlight in Vermont” of the song, Eames pulls a simple, elegant ring out of his pocket and holds it up. It glimmers in the moonlight, and Arthur’s eyes glaze over.

“Darling —” Eames begins.

“Yes.”

Eames’ smile eclipses the moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any musical opinions expressed in the fic are Arthur's and Eames', not my own.

**Author's Note:**

> Any and all music opinions expressed in this story are the characters', not my own.


End file.
